Interview With The Bimbo

*Before this story begins I would like to give a special thanks to the author Chrystal Wynd who has helped edit and read over this story from the beginning.

He also contributed Chapters 6 and 7 which shall be posted here shortly.

Thank you all in advance for reading.

CHAPTER ONE: ANNABELLE AND THE BIMBO, LULU

When Annabelle arrived home from work that evening, it had felt like any other day. The reality however could not have been more different for draped over the sofa in her living room was the person that was going to change her life.

With bright blonde hair and the mother of all hourglass figures, she certainly didn't strike Annabelle as someone who could possibly be of any significance. She looked barely twenty and was dressed like she was about to go out clubbing than to go out changing people's lives.

"Who the hell are you?" asked the startled Annabelle. "and what are you doing in my apartment?"

The girl just smiled at her first of all. "My name is Lulu." she replied, "And I've got a story to tell."

"That still doesn't explain why you broke into my apartment."

"You're a reporter, one of the best I could find. I want you to listen to my story and to let the world know that my kind exist."

"Your Kind?"

"Bimbos."

Annabelle couldn't help but scoff at that response. "Bimbos? You mean like the giggly no brained blonde sluts that like to wear pink?"

"You really shouldn't believe the stereotypes." smiled Lulu, "There is more to bimbos, true bimbos I mean, than you would ever believe."

"Oh so you're saying you also all like to discuss the artwork of Max Beckmann over a glass of 92 Latour?" replied Annabelle sarcastically.

"Well personally I find Beckmann's use of twisted images and colours to portray the horrors of war through biblical figures to be hauntingly tragic, I wouldn't be drinking a 92 Latour though, 1992 was an awful year for Bordeaux." Lulu watched in amusement as Annabelle's jaw fell open in surprise at her response before adding, "Like I said, don't believe all the stereotypes. Just because I'm a bimbo, doesn't mean I'm stupid."

"Then what does being a bimbo mean?" asked Annabelle who was now starting to become semi-interested.

Lulu got to her feet and made her way over to Annabelle, "I'll show you." she said before grabbing a pair of scissors that were lying on the drawer beside Annabelle.

For a moment, Annabelle was worried that the girl was about to try and attack her. Her fears were soon put to rest though as the girl started hacking away at her own hair, clumps of perfect blonde hair fell to the ground making the previously perfect looking girl suddenly look like she had just lost an argument with a lawnmower.

Annabelle stood in the living room, shocked at what she had just seen. A split second later this shock turned to dumbfoundedness as before her eyes, Lulu's hair reverted to its original style. The hair she had cut off was still lying on the floor, yet she had also instantaneously grown a replacement head of hair.

"This is what it means." declared Lulu, "There is a difference between a bimbo and some air headed slut that likes to fuck. You saw what happened to my hair just now, the same would happen if I dyed it or even tried to change style. I can only ever look like this."

"But why?" asked Annabelle, now completely hooked by what she was witnessing.

"Because nobody is born a bimbo, you are turned into one. I wasn't born this way and I certainly never used to look like this. I was changed."

"That's ridiculous, how can anybody change who you are?"

"There's a number of ways really, magic is one, hypnosis can be another. With me, it was drugs."

"Yes drugs, the work of a scientist named... well we'll get to that later. The fact of the matter is that any girl can end up like me in the wrong set of circumstances and it is time for people to know our story. Or my story at least. And I want you to write it for me. Will you do that for me?"

"Yes, of course!" blurted out Annabelle, "It would be an honour. Just come by my office say tomorrow a..."

"It has to be now." stated Lulu. "I've already been here too long, we do the interview here and now or not at all."

Annabelle was too consumed with personal interest, let alone professional, to be able to turn this story down. Therefore she was more than willing to accept her demands.

"Fine, we'll do it now. Just let me get my tape recorder."

"Thank you," replied Lulu, "I knew you would hear my story."

Ten minutes later, Annabelle was ready. She was sat in an armchair with notebook in hand, tape recorder placed on the coffee table in front of her and Lulu still sprawled over the sofa across from her. It was time to begin the interview of her career.

"So," began Annabelle, "Where do you want to begin?"

"I want to start with a simple question."

"Okay, what do you wish to ask?"

"How old do you think I am?"

"Umm, I don't know. Nineteen? Maybe twenty?"

"I'm forty two."

"What!" choked Annabelle in shock, "But you don't look a day over twenty."

"That's because I am nineteen years old." replied Lulu matter of factly.

"I don't understand."

"It's like I told you, I wasn't born a bimbo. I became this way twenty three years ago. When I was nineteen years old."

"You're trying to tell me that you've looked just like that for over twenty years?"

"Exactly, I was born in 1967, yet maintain the body of a horny young teenager. There's nothing I can do about it either. If I cut my hair, it grows back. If I smoke a cigarette, my lungs remain clear. If I cut myself, my skin will heal without a scar."

"Are you telling me you can't die?"

"No Annabelle, I am very much mortal. A lethal blow for you would be equally lethal for me. The only difference is that I will always revert back to this state of perfection once the injury has healed."

"That's incredible." responded Annabelle, awestruck. "I mean not for you obviously, you must hate it. But it's still incredible."

"It is enough to drive the average mind insane. It is a twisted irony that a bimbos mind is so full of pep and optimism that we alone are able to endure such a fate and we alone are the only ones who suffer it."

"I couldn't imagine whether that is a curse or a blessing."

"Over the years you come to think of it as both. When I first got turned all I could think about was sex and a desperate need for gratification. I had the IQ of a genius but my mind was foggy with ditzy language, giggles and a total inability to think clearly about anything other than sex and how to get it.

"It took years to finally gain some control of my mind, to break free of the shackles of ditziness. I can now think with what I would quantify as about eighty percent clarity and can sometimes go up to three days before the desperate need for sex consumes me. I had to fuck three guys before coming here, just to make sure my mind would be at the optimum sharpness in order to tell you my tale. But enough of what I am now, there is plenty of time to get round to that. My story starts with who I was before..."

CHAPTER TWO: ORIGINS

It was 1987 when it happened. Back then I wasn't called Lulu, there was no Lulu. I was Louise; a nineteen year old runaway getting by from moving from town to town, taking whatever I could and then moving onto the next. My good looks and quick mind were enough to fool even the most cynical into believing that I was somebody they could trust. In a couple of weeks I could strip a village of most of its disposable income and move onto the next before anyone even arose suspicion. It was a perfect life of crime and in a country the size of America, one can always move on far enough that even when the victims realise they've been conned, you are too far away for it to be a problem.

I know you might be thinking, now that you know my story that maybe I deserve this fate, that I am being punished like a criminal should be. But please understand, I was a nineteen year old girl with no parents, no high school education and my only job prospects would be to work some dead end job for people with only a fraction of the intelligence I possessed. I know now that what I used to do was wrong, but for a nineteen year old in that situation, it can be quite easy to think that the world owes you something. I was just determined to take as much of that something as I could.

"So what happened next?"

"I hit one town too many."

I still remember those few days like they were yesterday. It had been a few weeks since my last 'windfall' and so I was in desperate need for funds. That was when I happened upon a place called Emerald Lake.

At first it just felt like any other town or village I had used in the past. Pleasant looking streets, lots of diners and local shops, even a British theme pub. It was the epitome of the phrase, appearances can be deceiving. For starters it took a few hours to notice that nobody in this town was ugly, not the women at least. They were... well they all looked like I do now.

"Did that not alert your suspicions at the time?"

Of course not, why would I have suspected something which at the time I 'knew' was impossible? I just assumed that maybe I'd happened across a town with a tiny gene pool or maybe even I millionaire town complete with the Barbie girl mail order brides. I was too young and naïve to be suspicious.

"So what happened?"

I just did my normal thing; talked my way into a local hotel, borrowed some money of the kind-hearted landlord and plotted my next plan of action. It wasn't until the evening that I began to think that something was different.

"How so?"

Well for starters, I began to realise that the women weren't just easy on the eye, they were raging sluts too. You couldn't walk into a shop, bar or restaurant without seeing some guy getting sucked or even fucked by one of these girls, even when in clear sight of everyone else in the premises.

I'd never witnessed anything as insane as that first day in Emerald Lake and quickly decided that it was best for me to get out of town first thing the next morning.

"So why didn't you?"

It wasn't that easy. I had to get through the evening first and that, as it turned out, was impossible.

"Why? What happened?"

I got horny. I don't know how it happened but the moment I returned to my hotel room I was just overwhelmed by a desperate need to come. I tried to distract myself by watching TV but every channel was hardcore porn. What made it worse though was that the off button on the remote was disabled, the volume controls were reversed and the wires and plugs were all sealed off so I couldn't stop it. Needless to say that the state I was in, I was soon way past the idea of trying to ignore my needs and quickly onto the plan of satisfying them as quickly as possible. Twenty minutes later I was in bed, watching the TV and trying to get myself off as fast as my fingers could carry me.

The problem was though, no matter how hard I tried I couldn't get off. I was getting hornier and hornier but there was no end product. I got trapped in a desperate loop where the harder I tried to come, the hornier I got and the hornier I got, the harder I tried to come but it just was not happening. It was clear that for whatever reason I needed more than just my fingers to get to where I wanted to go.

An hour passed and I still could not get what I needed. My vibrator couldn't do the job, nor could the shower head in my room or even the wide variety of vegetables I ordered through room service as I desperately ran out of ideas. I knew I was left with no other choice than to go out and find a guy to satisfy my craving. Believe me, I abhorred one night stands, never had them. But this was an emergency.

I went down to the hotel bar which luckily was already quite busy. Most of the guys there were already paired up with the blonde sex puppets but there was one guy I could see who was on his own. He looked about mid-thirties, well dressed, maybe a little older than I would have liked but the state I was in then, he was more than acceptable.

Luckily for me also, he was sat at the bar so I didn't need any excuse to go up and sit next to him. I could just approach the bar, order a drink and let him talk me into bed.

So I sit by him at the bar, order the most provocatively named cocktail on the menu and wait for him to talk to me. However, after ten minutes of sitting there, I was still waiting. I tried smiling at him, making suggestive comments to the barman, I even undid one too many buttons on my blouse but to no avail, he just didn't react to anything. I tried scanning the bar for another single guy, but there were none, he was my only option.

I felt I had no choice but to make the first move. I asked all the usual questions, what was his name, where was he from and so forth and got all the usual answers: his name was Lester and he was a scientist, born and raised in Emerald Lake. I then started giving all the obvious signs, touching my hair, stroking his arm anything to try and make him realise it was his lucky night.

Eventually I gave up hope of him ever asking and decided for the sake of my sanity to take the initiative. That was when I realised exactly what kind of guy Lester was and what kind of place was Emerald Lake.

"How? What happened next?"

As casually as I could I suggested we take our conversation upstairs. He accepted the offer but on one condition; that I first sucked his cock right there where he sat.

"But that's crazy!"

I know, and even though I was desperate, I wasn't 'that' desperate. So I told him where he could shove his suggestion and he just smiled and told me that I would be back as soon as I realised that nobody else here was going to touch me.

So a few minutes later I was out of the bar and looking for somebody else to help me. However no matter where I turned and who I spoke to everyone told me the same thing:

"I'm sorry Miss, as much as I appreciate the offer, you're Lester's girl and there's no way I'm gonna fool around with one of Lester's girls."

No matter who I asked, it was the same reply and each time I heard that reply I just got hornier and hornier until I was almost literally at the point of madness in my desperation to come. I know it must sound crazy hearing this now but for me right then, the craving for sex felt strongly than any alcohol or drug addiction, it was consuming me. After asking what felt like every man in Emerald Lake, in my mind I was left with no choice but to accept Lester's terms.

So fifteen minutes later, I was back in the hotel bar, ashamed of what I was about to agree to. Lester was still sat alone in the same place and with the last ounce of dignity leaving my body, I went over to him. I can remember that one conversation like it was yesterday. It was the last conversation Louise ever had.

"So Lester, still want to have some fun upstairs?"

"Sorry girl, not in the mood for it anymore."

"Oh come on Lester, I promise to blow you right here first like you wanted."

"Sorry Lulu, but I expect you to do a lot better than that if you wanna change my mind."

"Like what? I'm sure we can come to some sort of arrangement." (I remember stroking the inside of his thigh as I said this.)

"Well aren't we the desperate slut today Lulu."

"Don't call me a slut! I just wanna have some fun with you tonight."

"I will call you anything I want to call you slut. And if you want me to go anywhere near that dripping wet whorehole of yours you will tell the whole bar right now how much of a slut you are."

"No I can't please I..."

"Tell them or you won't get to come again for a very long time."

"Please!"

"Tell them now!"

"Okay, okay, I'm a slut."

"I don't think everybody heard you. Try again."

"I'm a slut."

"Louder! I want everyone in this room to hear how slutty you are or you'll never get to have sex again!"

"Okay, I'm a slut, a dirty, horny SLUT. NOW PLEASE FUCK ME!!!"

"Not quite yet Lulu. It's one thing to say you are a slut, but I think these people need proof of just how slutty you are."

(Please understand that by this point, sex was the only thing left on my mind. I was willing to do anything in order to feel somebody's cock thrust inside of me.)

"How can I show them? What do you want me to prove?"

"It's simple. I just want you to get up on that stage over there, strip naked and masturbate in front of everybody. I want you to really put on a show."

To this day I still wonder whether I was Lulu or Louise when I rushed up on stage that evening. There wasn't even a moment's hesitation before I was out of my clothes and fucking myself as vigorously as it was possible for an index and middle finger to do so. All eyes were on me, cheering me on as I tried to show then all how much of a slut I was in order to get Lester to fuck me.

Lester, the only one not cheering, just sat there and watched me. I felt my eyes lock onto his, unable to escape from his gaze as he finally got to his feet and came over to me. The crowd began to chant "Lester, Lester, Lester," but Lester's expression never changed. He came up on stage and without saying a word to me, unzipped himself, grabbed my hips from behind and plunged his cock inside me.

In an instant, hours of pent up frustration exploded in a wave of pleasure. I came almost instantly and then continued to do so again and again and again. After what was maybe my ninth or tenth orgasm, I felt something sharp prick my neck. To this day I don't know if that needle was just to knock me out or if it contained the formula that changed me. All I know is that when I woke up, I was no longer in the bar and I was no longer Louise.

I don't know how long I was unconscious for, it could have been hours, it could even have been days. The changes in my appearance would have suggested months, but I know I wasn't out that long.

One of the first things that hit me when I woke up was that I was still horny. It wasn't the crazed desperate horniness of the bar, more like a state of mind. As if the horniness was a part of me as opposed to controlling me. It made me light headed and clouded my thinking. Whenever I even tried to think about where I was or how I could escape, my mind naturally wandered back to the topic of sex and when I might be able to have some. I began to masturbate just for the pure pleasure of it and it made all the troubles in my mind just drift away. I knew I was still clever and I actually hated myself for it. Thinking took so much effort, it felt so much better to let everything go and just think about sex.

It was hours before Lester came to see me and by the time of his arrival I was just happily playing with myself in order to pass the time. Whereas a normal kidnappee would get scared and angry at the sight of their kidnapper, I was buoyed by the possibility that I might get to have some sex. I was still myself to some extent, but myself was now Lulu.